


Martin Junior

by Jay_the_bird



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Birthday, Gift Giving, M/M, Plants, episode 161 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25886074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_the_bird/pseuds/Jay_the_bird
Summary: Born of a conversation about Jon naming plants.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 12
Kudos: 82





	Martin Junior

The tape recorder clicks on as Jon leans forwards, shuffling the papers.

“Right.” He says, drawing himself upright and going into his archivist voice. “Statement of Carlos Vittery, regarding his arachnophobia and its manifestations. Original statement given April 9th –” The door opens, creaking ominously on its hinges, and Jon turns around so quickly he nearly sends the chair spinning across the room.

“Sorry, I didn’t think – wait, you’re recording a statement?” Martin hesitates in the doorway, holding something behind his back. “Why are you –”

“ _Some_ of us do our jobs.” There is more venom in Jon’s voice than he intends there to be, and he feels a surge of guilt as Martine winces. “I’m – sorry. That was unnecessary.”

“It’s your _birthday._ ” Stepping forwards into the room, Martin closes the door quietly behind him. He’s always trying to take up as little space as possible, Jon thinks, and is surprised by how much that makes him upset.

“Yes, and Elias wanted another one recorded last week, which I didn’t get around to because –”

“– you got burnout. Yeah.” He sounds dejected, which is not necessarily unusual, but doesn’t make Jon feel any better.

“I assume you didn’t burst in here to talk about my recording of statements.” Jon says, trying to get the conversation on track. Nodding, Martin bounces a little on the balls of his feet.

“I know you said the wine was enough, but – I got you something.” For a second, he hesitates, and then produces a small succulent in a pot from behind his back Jon pushes back his chair and stands up, walking over in three deliberate steps. The pot has a red ribbon around it, and there are gaudy yellow stars painted on the side. “I noticed you had some already, and I just saw it and thought of you, and –”

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Interrupting him, Jon recognises the harshness in his own voice and winces before Martin can. “Sorry.” He says. “Thank you, Martin. It’s very thoughtful of you.” He crosses back over to the desk, putting the plant down in the place of honour next to the tape recorder, still running. Flushing, Martin looks at his feet.

“It’s nothing, really.” Still a bright shade of red, he walks back towards the door, tripping over his own feet as he moves backwards. Briefly, Jon thinks that he looks adorable, and then immediately glares at the hallway, unwilling to deal with the feeling. Hesitating at the door, Martin glances over at the succulent.

“You – you like it?” Jon sighs.

“ _Yes,_ Martin.” Feeling unusually soft, he allows himself a small smile. A bright smile bursts out across Martin’s face as he steps back through the threshold, closing the door behind himself. It doesn’t quite muffle his celebrations in the hallway, or his humming as he makes his way back to the main archives. Now that there is no one to see him, Jon smiles, sitting back down at his desk and turning the pot around to find the best angle for his new plant.

“So.” He says. “I suppose I should name you.” An idea sneaks into his mind. “Martin? No. No, that would be…” Trailing off, Jon looks towards the door. “I’ll think about it.”

“Jon?” The door swings open again unexpectedly, and Martin pokes his head in, looking a little flustered. “Just – while I’m up, do you want a tea?”

“That would be lovely.” Surprisingly, he realises that he means it. “Black, no –”

“I know how you have your tea.” Martin replies, smiling broadly. “I’ll see if I can get some biscuits off Rosie too. Special occasion and all that.” Unable to stop himself from smiling back, even if it is only a small smile, Jon runs his fingers over the rough wood grain of his desk.

“Well. Quite. Thank you, Martin.” He watches as Martin steps back and closes the door, listening until his footsteps fade.

He hesitates, and then sighs. “Might as well start over with this recording.”

The tape recorder clicks off.

The tape recorder clicks on. Jon doesn’t notice, halfway to exhaustion and already rambling.

“I wish Martin was back.” He says, head on the desk with his arms folded in front of him. “Maybe I should send him something. Soup.” Looking up, Jon sighs. “Chicken soup. That’s the done thing, isn’t it, Junior?” The plant does not reply. It sits on his desk, unmoving, green, vibrant. “I’ll get some from Sainsbury’s on the way home, and I’ll figure out a way to get it to him.” Sighing again, he glances at the door, frowning as someone’s shadow passes behind the clouded glass. “Typical that he would get this badly sick. He even said it might be a parasite.” In the silence that follows, Jon appears to be listening to the succulent. “I do worry about him sometimes, Junior.”

“Are you talking to that plant?” Spinning around, Jon realises that he never heard Sasha enter. He splutters indignantly, pushing the pot gently away.

“That would be ridiculous.”

“Yes, it would.” She replies, sounding like she’s laughing at him. “I just had the follow up from the demon case, so you can get started on recording the second bit.” Nodding, Jon stands up.

“Thank you, Sasha.” Taking the file from her, he briefly flicks through it, shuffling the papers into neatness automatically.

“Isn’t that the one Martin got you?” With a loud cough, Jon puts the file down, obscuring Martin Junior from Sasha’s sight with his positioning of himself. “It is!” Says Sasha delightedly, leaning around him. “You must be missing him.” Drawing himself up to his full hight – which is considerably shorter than Sasha – Jon puffs out his chest, ready to defend himself.

“On the contrary, things have been running much more smoothly since Martin went on sick leave.” He says snippily, folding his arms. Unconvinced, Sasha raises one eyebrow.

“Mhm. You want me to get you a tea?” There is a moment when Jon is silent, staring at his long-empty mug, and then he tilts his chin up in defiance, picking it up and handing it to Sasha.

“Black, no sugar. Leave the bag in.” He says. He doesn’t ask if there are any of the spiced black teas Martin had started getting in – Jon has the feeling that if he were to ask, Sasha would simply raise her eyebrow again and not-laugh at him.

“You got it.” Sasha replies, smirking like she knows something Jon doesn’t as she leaves, closing the door firmly behind her.

The tape recorder clicks off.


End file.
